


Pomegranate Seeds

by Pomegranate Seedling (painbow)



Category: BioShock 1 & 2 (Video Games)
Genre: ADAM hallucinations, ADAM use, Belly Kink, Force-Feeding, M/M, Mind Control, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Stuffing, don't worry the slugs are not from little sisters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-14
Updated: 2020-03-14
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:54:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23135743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/painbow/pseuds/Pomegranate%20Seedling
Summary: "Little somethin' we had left lyin' around in the labs. Thought it'd be a shame if they were left to waste there, I figured they ought to go to someone who'd appreciate 'em. Aha!"Atlas was grinning, but Jack never saw it - his eyes were focused on the slimy, wriggling thing pinched between the tongs he was carrying. He had never seen one before, but by the dimly glowing red spots along its sides and the green slime that oozed off of it, he could make a guess."I'm going to need you to open wide, would you kindly?"
Relationships: Atlas/Jack (BioShock), Frank Fontaine/Jack
Comments: 5
Kudos: 90





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written in 2014 for the biotrash bioshock kink meme, figured moving this to AO3 was long overdue. Some minor format tweaks, but otherwise unchanged.  
> Prompt was "Can I please have a fic where someone restrains Jack and shoves ADAM slugs down his throat until he glows like a nightlight?"

"Just sit right there, and keep your hands on the armrests, would you kindly," Atlas said, smooth enough to sound like he was just asking for a favour.

Jack glared at him, because he knew he wasn't. His hands settled around the ends of the smooth armrests, fingers curled around the edge. The chair was hard, with a solid wood back and a leather-covered cushion that didn't do much, far as Jack could tell. It was pushed close to a dark wooden table with rounded decorated edges. Jack didn't pay too much attention to how it was designed - he was more concerned with what was on top of it:

There was a jar, opaque by design or by its contents, it was hard to figure out which. It was grey and mottled in colour, and there were crusty dried up trails dripping from under the lid. Atlas' (Fontaine's) hand pressed into the table beside it as he leaned partly over the jar, mostly into Jack's vision.

"Now, I know there's a bit of bad blood between us," he said like he actually felt guilty about it.

"Fuck you." Jack spat. That was all he wanted to say to Atlas (Fontaine), and that was all he was going to give him.

Atlas shook his head, but he was smiling.

"Don't be like that, Jackie. I'm fairly sure we can come to an arrangement, you and I. I even brought a little _peace offerin'_ , to show how much I mean it."

With that, he stood up straight and took the lid off the jar. The smell of stale salt water immediately hit the air and Jack tried not to pull a face. Atlas slipped something out of his back pocket - a pair of metal tongs, which he dipped into the jar.

"Little somethin' we had left lyin' around in the labs. Thought it'd be a shame if they were left to waste there, I figured they ought to go to someone who'd _appreciate_ 'em. Aha!"

Atlas was grinning, but Jack never saw it - his eyes were focused on the slimy, wriggling thing pinched between the tongs he was carrying. He had never seen one before, but by the dimly glowing red spots along its sides and the green slime that oozed off of it, he could make a guess.

"I'm going to need you to open wide, would you kindly?"

Jack knew what was going to happen, and he didn't want it to, but he tilted his head back and opened his mouth as much as he could. It was more than enough room as he could see when Atlas got closer, when the slug was held right over his face. His stomach was twisting already with anticipation for what was going to happen, but Atlas drew it out, lowering the slug slowly.

Jack started to move his head, but Atlas' other hand caught him and held him still, and there was little else he could do but just wait for it.

"I'm gonna show you what you're missing by sparing those little brats," Atlas _(Fontaine)_ said, and relaxed the grip of the tongs.

The ADAM slug slipped out of the metal hands and hit the back of Jack's throat. He gagged, but it already was sliding, its writhing pulling it down faster. Atlas gently pressed his palm against the bottom of Jack's jaw, guiding it closed, but Jack tried to resist, and to choke up the thing wriggling its way into him. Atlas held firm, pushing against Jack's head with his other hand, and then slipping his fingers over Jack's mouth.

"Now, now, _boyo_ , don't be so ungrateful - this is hard stuff to come by!" he said, nearly into Jack's ear.

Jack shut his eyes - and maybe it was reflex, or habit, or just a need for a clear airway, but he _swallowed._

It moved, but it wasn't enough right away - he nearly gagged again, but with Atlas' hands holding his mouth closed, nothing came of it. His throat worked as he swallowed again, and he could _feel_ it slide the rest of the way.

Chuckling, Atlas slid his other hand out from behind Jack's head to pat him on the cheek.

"There, now, that wasn't so bad, was it?"

He was going to throw up, if Atlas let him. But he would put money down that the man wouldn't. It wasn't just how it writhed - was still writhing - there was something else: a stinging, numbing sensation he'd only felt when handling ADAM, but in his mouth and throat. He shut his eyes and groaned.

Atlas moved his hands away, at least, allowing Jack to gasp in more air than what he was getting through his nose. Jack heard him step away, and then the quiet squeak of another set of chair legs across the floor. They stopped at the corner of the table beside Jack, and he heard Atlas click his tongue.

"Oh, careful now - keep it down for me, would you kindly?" And there it was.

Jack's breathing slowed, just enough so that he wouldn't make himself too nauseous by his deep, ragged breaths, and he glared at Atlas. Atlas feigned hurt.

"Aw, now - don't be like that, lad. You ought to be _thanking_ me. Anyone else would _kill_ for this stuff. "

One of his hands touched the jar, turning it a little as he spoke. Something splashed inside of it, too violently to have been from the idle movement.

"Quite literally, as the things are usually in the stomachs of those little monsters."

The jar went still, and after another moment to think about it, Atlas smirked.

"And now you too, I suppose."

Jack didn't say anything. Didn't let up his glare either, or do anything other than set his jaw and hope he could will Atlas on fire without the use of his plasmids. Unaffected, Atlas shrugged and flicked the jar.

"These, though, they just sat around, building up ADAM. Never got around to being implanted, so there's nothing to worry your _bleedin' heart_ over."

Jack grunted - stuttered as something _moved_ in his stomach that he wasn't expecting. If anything, Atlas' grin became little more wicked.

"Oh, still kickin', is it?"

He leaned forward, enough to tug Jack's sweater up and slide his hand up under it, pressing it flat over Jack's stomach. Jack inhaled sharply at the temperature difference, but just glared at Atlas some more. That didn't last long - just until the slug thrashed again, and though it wasn't as hard as before it was apparently still enough for Atlas to feel. He laughed.

"Don't suppose it's lonely in there, is it?" he said, not even bothering to change his tone, "Well, now, why don't we fix that?"

He gave Jack's belly a pat and got back up to his feet, and back to the jar. Jack shut his eyes and clenched his jaw, but a few coaxing words from Atlas and he was leaning back and taking another slug in his mouth. This one seemed thicker than the last. There was less room for it to sway its head when it entered Jack's mouth, and less room around it when it reached his throat. He half-coughed, half-gagged again, but Atlas still had Jack's head in place and the tongs around the end of the slug,

"Oh, I know you can manage better than that," Atlas said. "Just _relax_ , it'll all go easier if you just _relax_."

Jack did not relax, primarily because he couldn't breathe around the slug in his mouth, and it didn't seem to want to move. It didn't seem like it even could - his whole mouth felt full of tingling, slimy, lumpy _slug_. Finally, his lungs and jaw couldn't take it anymore, and he twitched and--

There was a sudden popping feeling inside of his mouth and a rush of thick, cold, stinging yet sweet liquid in his mouth and down his throat. The slug didn't _deflate_ , exactly, and it didn't die instantly either - it writhed a little harder with the wiggle-room it gained. A slight look of disgust crossed Atlas' face.

"Aw, jesus, you popped it. Didn't think you were _that_ desperate for a fix already."

Jack barely heard him - he was distracted enough between trying not to choke and the growing numbness spreading through his body. Swallowing at first just seemed to drain more of the - whatever had been in the slug down his throat, but Atlas finally let the slug go and what was left of it slithered down after. Atlas didn't need to encourage Jack that time - he was desperate enough to take a deep, clear breath that he never even considered trying to spit it out.

The first slug wasn't moving so much anymore, he was sure, and he couldn't tell what the second one might have been up to. There was a different kind of ache in his stomach now, a slow burn and buzz spreading through his body to his head. ADAM high, he recognized, except, this was close to the feeling he had when he absorbed the ADAM from the little sisters he rescued, which was obviously less than what one slug held. He had just eaten two. This was just the start.

He tried to hold his head up and glare at Atlas some more, but the edges of everything seemed soft, and his head wasn't the right weight at all.

"Potent stuff, isn't it?" Atlas said in the distance. Jack squinted, but the light cast on him blurred like a halo.

He couldn't see it clearly, but he was pretty sure Atlas' arm was angled towards the jar. Jack kind of hoped it wasn't. His stomach was throbbing enough already and he was feeling too warm. He shut his eyes, bared his teeth, and tried to keep himself together. Tried to keep his brain anchored. To focus on some sensation, instead of letting himself drift away with the ADAM. The slugs were still now, but his stomach wasn't, churning and twisting as it tried to process what was inside it. It gurgled, quietly, and his muscles clenched like that would muffle it.

The problem with diverting his focus like that, was that he didn't register the light clinking of metal against glass, or the dripping of brine and slime, or Atlas' footsteps immediately. When he did - his eyes snapped open, and Atlas was standing beside him again, looming with another ADAM slug. The disgust - and maybe something close to _fear_ \- at seeing another slug must have been obvious, from the shift in Atlas' face.

"Don't look so surprised, boyo. Or - are you scared?"

Jack fought to get his face back under control, even with the slug in his peripheral, even with the sweat breaking across his skin. Atlas laughed, and it had the audacity to sound gentle.

"Come on, now. Get it together - we've only just started, after all." He chuckled again, and then, idly, like it wasn't relevant: "How many Little Sisters have you rescued?"

And just like that, Jack's work fell apart. His eyes flew open, and he stared as dread seeped through him cold, under the blanket of ADAM. He knew the answer offhand, but couldn't bring himself to say it. It was hard enough to think.

Fifteen.

Oh, _fuck._

His arms shook, his knuckles were white against the armrests, and his chest heaved with his breathing, but that was as much as he could move. Atlas, smiling, gently pressed his hand to Jack's forehead, tilting him back.

"Open wide for me, _would you kindly?"_


	2. Chapter 2

Four slugs was enough, in volume and dose. _Six_ slugs was torture. He felt already like he was burning inside out, and that was the only solid point with everything else around him feeling detached. His skin felt hot, and his stomach felt too small. When he opened his eyes, he could have been underwater with how clear and steady everything wasn't. He had tried to keep them shut, but it was a hard choice between that and knowing what Atlas was about to do next. He wished he could do the same with his mouth, but he couldn't breathe enough through his nose with how his heart and body was racing with the rush of ADAM.

Atlas had told him to keep seated and his arms on the armrests, but he said nothing about sitting straight. Jack twisted this way, then that, whatever gave the slugs more room and made him feel a little less like he was about to split. He tried to arch his back, but stretching too much made the movement of the living slugs feel too distinct, and Jack wasn't allowed to be sick. He sagged back against the chair with a grunt, panting, and in the rush that followed the exertion there was a moment of clarity. How long had it been since Atlas fed him another one? He knew they weren't done yet, unless that was something Atlas was bluffing about, but even with his thoughts scattered Jack knew Atlas wouldn't just stop when he was having so much _fun_.

Unless that was part of it. He took a few deep breaths (that pulled his skin too much), and opened his eyes.

The room was blurry, the colours were too bright, and white-ish blue shapes wavered at the edge of his vision. Atlas wasn't at the edges, but right in front of him, lounging in the other chair, watching. There was something about his eyes and the colour of his face and the slight part of his lips that Jack was pretty sure wasn't from the ADAM.

Before Jack could settle in for a really good hateful glare, pain kicked through the heat around his senses and he hissed, winced, and shifted again to no effect. This time, he could hear it when Atlas laughed to himself.

"Gotta say, you look _real_ good like that, boyo."

Of course. Jack rolled his eyes, shut them, and scowled harder, but pride be damned, he needed to be more comfortable. He didn't catch the sound of the chair moving immediately - distraction aside, through the cloud of ADAM around his ears it sounded like a squeak from a door, or a pipe, or something far away from where he was. Atlas' hand on his stomach was a little more noticeable. Jack went still and stared, while Atlas' eyes flicked up at him, and he smirked. And he _pressed._

Jack flinched immediately, and tried to edge himself backwards. Atlas laughed.

"What's a matter? Does that hurt?"

Atlas's hand followed him until Jack's back was cornered by the chair, and there was nowhere else to go. Jack exhaled through his teeth sharply, an attempt to hold back a whine that failed as Atlas slowly pressed the heel of his palm into Jack's stomach.

"What, it _does?"_

Jack didn't want to give him the satisfaction of answering, but the slugs in his belly were pinched too close, and a new wave of pain stung at him from inside when they lashed in their tighter quarters. He whined again, thin and strained, and that was enough - Atlas relaxed his hand, and Jack gasped from the immediate relief, before he noticed Atlas was still there.

He opened his eyes, saw the hand, and then squinted up at Atlas.

"Do you want me to stop?" Atlas said, smirking.

Jack just stared, so Atlas went back to work, pressing just a little on Jack's stomach.

"Tell me to stop." Atlas - _Fontaine_ said coolly.

Jack winced, but gave Fontaine another confused look, because there wasn't a point. It didn't matter what he said or felt, Fontaine had made it clear that he had a plan and was going to go through with it.

As it happened, Atlas had a plan he intended to go through with _now_ , and wasn't going to let Jack's silence get in the way.

"Tell me to stop, _would you kindly?"_

"Stop," Jack said quickly, though no less understanding. For a brief moment, he felt good seeing the smirk on Fontaine's face slip, but then he leaned forward, shifting his hand to dig his knuckles in _right_ where the still-living slugs seemed to be the thickest.

Jack tried to lock his teeth against making any noise about it, but it was too much, and moan ground out from the back of his throat.

_"Would you kindly_ tell me to stop?"

"Stop," Jack panted, "Fuck - just _stop."_

He could nearly hear Fontaine's smirk get wider, but he lightened up his hand, at least. Only to press his thumb in again. Jack squirmed and hissed.

"Stop! _Please!"_

He finally leaned away, and Jack was able to catch his breath, until he got his eyes to focus again and he found where Fontaine's other hand had went, and what he had in it.

Another slug. Jack's eyes widened. He didn't need to groan, his stomach did that for him. It'd been doing that for awhile, with everything going on in there, but now it seemed particularly emphatic.

"Would you kindly tell me you've had enough?"

"I've had enough," he said breathlessly.

"Oh, like you _mean_ it."

"I - I've had enough," he swallowed, and tore his eyes away from the slug. "Please."

Fontaine sat back, studying Jack with a hungry gleam in his eyes.

"Now, would you kindly ask ol' Atlas to help you?"

Jack's own eyes flinched, but he couldn't avoid it:

"Atlas - help me. Please."

He threw that last part in to get Fontaine to ease up on him. There wasn't a lot of room for pride, like this.

"You _want_ my help, boyo?"

_like you mean it._ Jack sucked in a breath and nodded, and looked Atlas in the eyes.

"Yes. Atlas, please- _ah!"_ he shifted again, but didn't stop, "- please. I need your help."

Atlas closed his eyes, took a deep breath in, and let it out slow. He opened them and smiled, plain and genuine with nothing underneath.

"Well then. I'll help you out, Jack."

Atlas leaned forward and gently cupped Jack's jaw with his free hand, and tilted his head back before Jack realized what was happening. _Still_ happening. Jack choked a sound out through his teeth and wanted to shake his head, or even just turn it away, but Atlas' grip was firm.

"Shhh, now, don't be so nervous," he said, voice softer, honeyed through the ADAM haze. It was just the ADAM. Atlas had _never_ been that gentle.

"I've got you. I'm here."

The slug was close enough to brush against his face when it moved, and the cold trails blossomed pleasantly along his skin until he remembered where it was from and why it was there. Jack's throat was tight, but he knew that wouldn't help anything.

He was the one groaning, this time, but Atlas hushed him, first with his voice and fingers, then with slug number seven.


	3. Chapter 3

Slug ten - or was it nine? Whichever it was, he bit it, intentional, when Atlas didn't expect it. The cool of its briny, stinging innards bursting down his throat was rewarding, even if what followed would be less welcome. But at least in pieces, it wouldn't be as bad as one whole and living thing.

Atlas didn't say anything about it this time, Jack was fairly sure. But it was hard to focus on some things. Especially his thoughts - he couldn't remember why Atlas _would_ say something, so maybe it was good that he didn't. The silence that was there instead was like the static of the radio - it wouldn't normally be, but with each swell of ADAM, everything seemed to get brighter, sounds and colours both. And maybe it was because it was Atlas he was listening to, but if he wasn't talking, it was static, blue whispering noise that rose and fell with his breath. Sometimes, they were soothing. Sometimes they weren't.

Now, they were interrupted by a voice, rich, but stern, that made something sink deep within him. Fuzzy, at first, but Jack latched onto it until it was clear:

".... aking a mess, there, lad."

Oh. Guess he did have something to say about it, after all. Jack wanted to reply, and there was an apology already on his lips, but he stopped. He shouldn't say anything, he realized, though he didn't know _why_. He was derailed again before he could figure it out, and then, instead of an apology, it was Atlas at his lips instead.

Here, there was less hesitation - in the haze of his mind and mess of his thoughts, he could remember one thing he'd wanted to do since his first hours in Rapture hearing that golden voice, and he kissed Atlas back. Atlas' lips were on his, then his chin, his jaw, wherever the slug had leaked out. Jack sighed, and didn't mind that, especially with that voice whispering promises in his ears, but he was happy to have Atlas back against his mouth soon after anyway. They kissed again, until something pulsed in Jack's stomach and he moaned, muted by Atlas until he pulled away.

"There, there, what's the matter?"

Jack opened his eyes again, saw his vision filled with Atlas. The colours were like music to his eyes, even though their brightness made his stomach roll. He swallowed, and he tried to find somewhere else on his face to look - anywhere else in the room was too cold, or too full of images that shimmered and wavered nauseatingly, which didn't help him at all. He settled on Atlas' eyes, intense and blue and cold, but clearer and sturdier than the other visions. Finding them gave Jack something to ground himself with, and it was like a breath of fresh air against the heat prickling his skin from the inside and the cold searing him from the out.

He blinked and remembered, in a steady voice: 'what's the matter?' Staring into Atlas eyes, Jack, for some reason, found himself thinking _'you'._ Trying to figure out why had him wading through another mess of thoughts and memories, none of which made sense, not after everything Atlas had done to help him, not with how soothing his voice was. Maybe he just wanted more.

Needing to answer but having none, Jack just shook his head. There was concern in Atlas' eyes, which made his guts twist again.

"You trust me, right Jackie?"

He felt like he was going to say no, he felt like he was going to be sick. He swallowed both, and nodded. Atlas smiled.

"Here, then I got just the thing. Hold on."

His hand was soft, warm, and welcome on his burning face, and Jack leaned into the touch, closing his eyes. He trusted Atlas.

Something new was against his lips now. Cold, slimy, and stinging with ADAM. Jack opened his mouth and let the next slug in, drinking it down without a second thought.

Yes, he wanted more, didn't he?


	4. Chapter 4

His head was floating but his body was an anchor, more than the chair his hands were bound to invisibly. He was burning, but the air was cold against his sweat. There were flutters of sound, echoing in voices he didn't recognize from people he never knew. He shivered. They weren't solid enough to be real, like his breathing, or the throbbing in his belly, or the hand on his cheek.

"There, now, Jackie, you're doing fine." And that voice. It was solid, clear, not at all distant like the other ones. It was real, it was Atlas.

His stomach churned painfully. He felt sick, shaky, but he couldn't do anything about that. Atlas could, with his soothing voice and gentle touch.

Jack took a shuddering breath, and let it out easy, willing everything to stay in place. Focusing on his forehead against Atlas' steady shoulder. On Atlas's strong, but gentle, kind, hands on his back, between his shoulders and on his neck. On Atlas' weight on his legs, firm and solid and sometimes hard. On Atlas' voice, like gold.

He was soothing as he spoke, saying something else that Jack couldn't quite catch, but held on to anyway. The entire world felt like it was moving, until it stopped and he realized it was just Atlas. The man leaned him away from his shoulder, probably so it'd be easier to bring the hand on Jack's neck to his forehead, where he brushed away his sweat and hair. All Jack could focus on were his eyes, but even that was giving him trouble. He could feel Atlas' other hand slide slowly from his back, around to sit at his hip. Atlas' eyes turned away to trail down Jack's chest, to settle with his hand, but shifted to something else.

"Jesus, they're sure making you pop."

Jack watched Atlas' other hand slide over to his stomach, smoothing his sweater over a curve he didn't know he had. His whole body felt oversensitive and overaware, but there especially it seemed he could feel every fibre of his shirt and every twitch in the muscles of Atlas' hand in detail. For a moment, Jack just watched Atlas' hand rise and fall with his breath, wondering what was odd about what he was seeing, deciding maybe it something about the way the patterns in his sweater were twisted and bent. Until Atlas brought his fingers together, and tilted them down.

Jack took a sharp breath - but even with how clear he felt it, it wasn't _painful_ , completely. Still, Jack had to steady his head against the back of the chair to keep himself still. It seemed contradictory that the slight pressure of Atlas' fingers would ease his soreness, but it did. Maybe it wasn't the pressure, then, but the small, gentle circle he was rubbing into the top of Jack's belly. He closed his eyes, and couldn't remember how long it had been going on for, but it wasn't long enough. He wasn't sure it ever could be, with the way the ache was moving.

He wasn't as good at picking out fake noises as he was at fake voices, but some of them might have been coming from his stomach. Hopefully, they were the ones that sounded more appreciative.

Atlas sighed, and his fingers slowed for a moment. Jack made a small, almost-whimper. His eyelids fluttered - but it was too bright, and Atlas' eyes weren't looking at his enough to be worth it.

"Aren't you glad I'm doing this?"

Jack bobbed his head. Yes, sure, he was glad that Atlas was rubbing some of the pain away. Atlas chuckled.

"I told you it wasn't so bad, didn't I?"

Jack couldn't remember when that had happened, but he didn't want to disagree with Atlas, so he just smiled instead. Atlas hummed a little, pleased, it sounded like, and small as it was Jack let the sound fill his ears and sink into his skin, sighing when Atlas' fingers picked up the pace again. He was floating in comfort and warmth, even with pain and motion trying to weigh him down, until he heard something like ceramic chimes, beautiful though ominous. Atlas' weight had shifted, Jack noticed, and then he struggled to open his eyes. He was uneasy, and a look into Atlas' face would make him feel better.

He saw instead, something writhing, hissing, dripping like tar, covered in burning red lights. He froze.

Atlas' voice smothered his ears again, hushing him, and the hand left his belly to soothe his face instead.

"You're fine, Jackie, you're fine."

He guided Jack's eyes to look at his, and though he could feel the strength in those blue eyes, the hot weight deep in his stomach grew heavier.

"We're almost there. Stay with me, now."

His thumb pressed against the corner of Jack's mouth, slipped in and coaxed it open. Jack tried to stare at the cold, blue eyes, instead of the red lights that burned like his guts and like his head.

Against his tongue instead of his eyes, it didn't burn as much, but it tasted like black ink and something grey and oily, and he gagged. Trying to make it go any further was like trying to force something against the grain, against a current or the teeth of a saw. He started to choke.

"Come on, boyo. _Come on_ , Jack, you can do it."

Atlas' voice was a line of comfort in his struggle against the squirming _thing_ in his mouth. And he was right - he had to be right. He always was. But Jack still felt hot inside, his head, his heart, his lungs, his stomach, his eyes, burning dry or molten. He could feel both of Atlas' hands on him, soon enough, on his shoulder with thumb stroking his neck, on his cheek with thumb stroking away a tear. He could feel the slug in the back of his throat, trying to go one way or the other, and Jack couldn't send it in either.

"You're almost there. Do it for me, love."

All of the darkness clouding him vanished, for a second, and Jack swallowed. Swallowed again. And once more. Gasped to breathe, and then to keep everything down and steady. The hand on his shoulder moved down his chest, parallel to the slug wiggling the same way.

"There you go, there you go."

They both stopped at his stomach. Jack leaned back, groaning, breathing heavily. He tried to find Atlas' eyes again - he needed to, after that.

He did - and Atlas was smiling, which lessened the pressure in his chest, somehow.

"That's the way." He gave his stomach a pat. "Not much longer, now."

He believed him, even as he started to twist away again. Why wouldn't he?


	5. Chapter 5

He might have been struggling to catch his breath, to get himself together, but he would never be distracted enough to miss those words:

"Shh, it's over, Jack. We did it, it's over."

Those were words he had been waiting to hear since Neptune. For a time, for some reason, he thought they would stay a fantasy. But hearing them now undid a knot in his head, and he sighed, relaxing into Atlas' touch, and the cushion of his senses.

He didn't know what, exactly, he meant was over. There was a lot of things they had to finish, and some of them dangled in Jack's mind, but he didn't reach for them. He didn't care, really, because the bottom line was Atlas was with him, they'd succeeded, and he was happy. Atlas was pleased, and so was Jack, even if he hurt.

He hurt, but felt soft, comfortable. He felt like he could do anything, but he chose to do nothing but bask in how warm he was and how much of Atlas he could feel. Hands on his face, wiping away moisture there, sweat or slime or tears. Lips against his forehead first, then on his cheek below his eye, and then on his lips. Every touch from him was softer and more sensual than anything he'd felt without ADAM - and it had to be the ADAM this time, but he didn't mind. More than that - he _loved_ it. It lit up his veins, made him feel like he was glowing (though he hoped he wasn't - Atlas had asked him to keep his Plasmids off). It made him warm, not like the suffocation of Hephaestus, but like he was in the sunlight. Or was the sunlight. It made him feel bold, it made him feel like kissing Atlas back.

He leaned into Atlas' mouth, sliding his tongue over what he could, and was rewarded by hearing him moan this time. He felt numb - no, no he didn't, he wasn't _numb_ , it was just everything else tickling his nerves, turning his skin to white noise, except where something drifted through louder than the others - the warmth of another body, of _Atlas_ (and _god_ he was warm - or maybe Jack was just warmer), of his scent flooding his senses, hands on his face (it wasn't fair, Jack wanted to touch back, but he wanted to keep his hands still more), an arm over his shoulders, fingers on his chest, trailing down--

He broke the kiss, sucking in a hissing breath.

"Little tender still, are you?" Atlas said quietly, pleasantly (always pleasantly). Jack didn't want to come off as soft or something, but he still nodded. His face already felt like it was burning, maybe Atlas wouldn't notice if the reason changed.

"There now, I'll take care of you," Atlas started to say, sliding his hand under Jack's sweater. No part of Atlas was cold, but with how his skin was crawling and burning and stinging, it was still a surprise to feel him against his bare skin. And he sighed, relieved as Atlas' hand trailed further up to where he felt the tightest and--

"The hell?"

The voice was solid, like Atlas - but it wasn't him. It was rusty metal instead of flowing gold, and it hit him like a splash of water. Was someone else there with them?

He opened his eyes, but it didn't help - too much colour, movement, too many things that weren't there, or used to be there but weren't anymore. A smear of colour lingered through the air after one of the moving things - it had to be Atlas. He lingered. Then where had that other voice come from?

Jack focused on breathing, trying to work up to saying something, a question or maybe even a warning, if Atlas hadn't noticed.

But then, there was a click - and suddenly there were less halos everywhere. The faded white of ghosts in the room were clearer in the dark, but at the same time harder to see, without everything else dancing in his eyes. Without everything else dancing in his eyes, he could make out Atlas standing by the door, beside the light switch. Though, even with the lights off, everything had a strange, golden cast to it.

Atlas was staring at him. He laughed quietly to himself, shaking his head a little in disbelief.

"Would you look at that." he said.

Was that a command? Jack made an effort to lift his head anyway, and figure out where Atlas was looking.

It wasn't hard. There was a dim red light coming from... Oh.

Jack stared, dazedly, until he remembered why that was familiar, and then, why that was funny. He couldn't quite manage a laugh, but a dopey smile spread across his face.

Atlas slowly wandered away from the light switch, and knelt down in front of Jack, nearly between his knees. He slowly edged Jack's sweater up, and gently touched fingers around the edge of the red glow in Jack's belly. He dragged his fingers lightly over his skin, and Jack squirmed a little - between how full he was and the buzz of the ADAM, he was feeling sensitive, but Atlas didn't reprimand him. Which was good, actually, because this felt good, to have some contact along his tingling skin. Atlas' touch got a little more confident, a little more firm as he passed over the glow, and a soft noise slipped out of Jack. Atlas looked up at him with a smirk.

"Heh. Most expensive nightlight in Rapture, huh?"

Jack wasn't entirely sure he got it, but he kept smiling like he did. Atlas chuckled under his breath, and then tipped his head forward and kissed Jack's belly, just above his navel, where the glow was the brightest. Jack stared a little - Atlas didn't pull back, but his thumbs started to move, tracing circles on the side of Jack's stomach, as he kissed him again. That seemed a little strange of him to do - why, Jack couldn't place exactly. Atlas had been looking out for him, after all, it made sense that he cared. Or, maybe he just liked the glow of his stomach _that_ much. Yeah. Yeah, Jack could see that. He could see that clearly - the glow looked just like he felt, soft and warm and aching.

Atlas' hands pressed a little firmer into Jack's stomach, as he seemed content to just rest his face against the warmth of the ADAM churning in there. Jack could feel everything, every shift in Atlas' fingers, to his breath heating and cooling his skin, to his hair tickling against his belly. Jack wished he could slide his hands through that hair, but he didn't want to move them from the armrests. He didn't quite laugh, but he made another little noise and shifted a little. This time, Atlas kept his hands in place, rather than moving them along with Jack, which for a moment made the pressure against his stomach more on this side of painful, however much that processed in his head. Jack flinched a little, and tried to move back, but the pressure seemed to remind him that there was an ache inside his stomach along with that glow. He tried to keep quiet, forgot why, and a tiny groan slipped out of him again.

Atlas raised his head - and uh-oh, he did something wrong, didn't he?

"S'matter, boyo? Don't like this?"

"No," Jack got out quickly, though the word seemed to puff out of his mouth. His tongue didn't feel right. Uh, what was he saying?

There was a sharp throb in his side, and he remembered.

"Just. _Hurts."_

Atlas kept looking at him. Jack didn't know how long, just that his stomach made it feel too long, before he finally did something - thankfully, it was sliding one of his hands up to rest on the top of the curve of his belly. He gave it a little rub, and then finally - to Jack's relief - smiled gently.

"Suppose you want to move somewhere more comfortable?"

Jack risked nodding his head - it was slow going, but he did it. Atlas nodded, gave his belly one last quick kiss, and then stood up. Jack regretted the loss of contact immediately, cursed that throbbing in his stomach. Atlas' hand on his arm just wasn't the same.

His body was an anchor, as Atlas led him at a dragging pace through the thick and frigid air around them. Breezes whispered and lights flickered, but Atlas was an anchor too, keeping him secure and not letting him drift away with the ADAM voices, a solid, steady, warm colour in a sea of icy mist.


	6. Chapter 6

They drifted, Jack wasn't sure how long, until he closed his eyes and opened them in a clearer, smaller, place. A door shut behind them. The light was dim, unaffected by the glow at the edge of his vision. Despite that, he could make out a tall, wiry bedframe. And a bed, more importantly.

"Here we are, Jack. Just lie down over here," Atlas said softly, guiding him around to the side, easing him to the bed. Jack followed willingly, lying back on the mattress with a sigh at its give, and at the extra space relaxing seemed to give his stomach.

He stayed like that, for a few breaths, and then raised his head. There was a pillow leaning against the frame at the head of the bed, and it propped him up enough to see himself, and the glow under his sweater. He frowned, and after a second, hitched it back up, so it wouldn't mute the glow. At first, he just let his eyes drink in this other patch of light, the only one that was both real and warm, watching it shift, and not always with his breathing, like the rest of his stomach. Then, slowly, he slid his hands over his belly. He laughed, a little, watching the light through the thinner part of his fingers, and how the silhouettes from the rest broke it up. He started moving them - a little faster than Atlas, and better placed - but he slowed down not long after, distracted as he was with the light in general.

A light, coming from his belly. Huh. That was a _lot_ of ADAM in there, wasn't it? He wondered how much one of the girls could get from him like this.

He was feeling sore enough already, his stomach especially, but sometimes something would hurt a little more, suddenly. Like now - he didn't register it immediately, he just noticed the brightness of the glow shifted. But then pain lanced just behind that spot, and he hissed.

"What's the matter now?" Atlas said, close.

Jack risked glancing at him, but not long enough to find his eyes. He wasn't sure he wanted to. Instead of figuring it out, he shut his eyes and grimaced.

"I dunno - it still hurts."

"Here, let me see."

Atlas gently guided one of his hands away, up and over his head. He didn't really notice until Atlas reached for the other one. He looked at him, a little confused, but Atlas was smiling and warm, and with a few kind words, convinced him to let his hand be guided away, into a cold cuff above his head.

It kind of made sense - after all, it was easier to see the glow and his stomach and what was wrong if his hands weren't in the way. Right? That's what Atlas was doing.

With the way clear, Atlas crouched by the bed, and touched his fingertips to Jack's belly, and ran them down to just under his navel. He raised his head enough to glance at Jack, and this time meeting his eyes was unavoidable.

"Tell me where it hurts, if you can."

Jack's throat was tight, but he nodded.

Atlas thankfully turned his gaze back to Jack's stomach, as he moved his fingers.

"Here?"

No. Atlas's hand trailed to the other side of Jack's belly, the skin tingling in his wake. He repeated the question, Jack shook his head, and Atlas' fingers shifted again. Jack's eyes were focused on them, and how they were cast in red as they neared the brightest part of the light inside him.

He didn't realize Atlas had spoken again (though there had been a nicer sounding swell of noise in the buzz around his ears) as he watched those fingers circle around his navel, shallow and sensitive from the pressure behind it. They stopped, and Atlas asked again - "Am I closer?"

He felt a stronger throb of pain, and saw his belly twitch, but above where Atlas' hand was. Jack swallowed on a dry throat, and nodded, slowly, slightly - close, but not there. Atlas' fingers traced another ring, and then moved up.

"Here, then?" he asked, rubbing his fingers back and forth under Jack's ribs.

Jack pursed his lips against any sound, but Atlas' hands seemed to get heavier with each stroke, until something like a strangled whimper squeaked by him. Atlas stopped, and looked up at him again. For a second, his eyes were cold, but then they were kind, and the weight lifted.

"Ah, is that it?"

Jack nodded, and Atlas smiled earnestly. He pulled his hand away and stood up.

"I know just the thing to help - wait right here, and I'll be back shortly.”

Jack swallowed down a protest - he didn't want Atlas to leave. Not after everything - and what if he didn't come back?

But Atlas said he would. So Jack nodded, and set his head back, and tried to memorize the ceiling instead of watching Atlas leave. But his stomach wasn't as quick to leave his mind- it wasn't long before the pain rolling in it built up too much again. Clenching his jaw, he shifted his weight, a little, at first. But that hardly seemed to settle anything, and at a particularly hard lash from _something_ , he grunted and rolled partway to the side, stretching back. It helped, somehow - provided just a little more room for his stomach, though stretching any more than he already had was painful as well. Eventually the balance between the tension in his stomach and the tightness of his skin shifted, to the point where Jack felt it was safe to lie back again. His guts groaned a little when he flopped onto his back, but it beat whatever they were doing before. He tried to catch his breath, and look at the ceiling, to watch the patterns there swirl and swish, but pain started to rise again, just behind and above his navel.

He moaned quietly to himself, and raised his head. He couldn't make sense of most of the shapes in the room, let alone tell if any of them were Atlas. So he focused on himself - the glow distracted him again, as did how much he seemed to move when he breathed in, and then out. But the lights inside him - some of them, it seemed, if he squinted - they _shifted_ , and with it, a sharp, stinging pain.

"Ahh--" breathily. Something moved again and he whined, short and quiet, and tried to shift it around. Maybe if he could sit up- but aside from the awkwardness of his arms, they were stuck. Cuffed.

He was starting to wonder why Atlas did that.

Until he came back and Jack could ask him, though, he'd have to deal with this.

He rolled to the other side now, but this time he tried to draw his knees up, to curl around the pain. That only just made him feel more compressed, though. Christ, he hoped Atlas would come back soon.

Maybe if he just focused on breathing, that would help. He tried to do that, he tried to keep his eyes shut from the shifting patterns in the air while he tried to do that, but then one noise slipped into focus over the others: the sound of steel against steel, a small metal object removed from a tray.

Jack opened his eyes to a shimmering image, so white it was nearly blue, clear in places but never all at once. A man in a coat, a mask covering his nose and mouth, a band with a metal disk on his head, a scalpel in his hand.

"The forms are all signed?" he asked, fuzzily.

Someone Jack couldn't hear answered him, and he nodded.

"Good, good. We don't want a repeat of last time, do we?" he said lightly, leaning forward.

_No!_ Jack rolled to his side, twisting away from what he knew wasn't there but was threatening to feel real.

"Yeah, don't worry baby, you'll be a bigger star than Jasmine," said a stocky, shining man in an open pinstripe suit.

"I've been talkin' to some director pals, think I'm close to gettin' a position for you. Now tell me you've got a position for me, sweetheart."

Jack grimaced and shut his eyes, trying to block out that one voice. It wasn't hard, with the white noise of others seeping in.

"Just keep walking, leave him in the gutter-" "What do you think this is, a charity?" "Incision on the upper-right..." "Gonna be topping the charts before you know it!" "He doesn't _look_ like he's sleeping, Mr. Bubbles-" "-Anaesthesia levels _are_ correct, aren't they?"

Jack risked looking - it was a mistake that found him surrounded by pale figures and dead white eyes. He looked at the ceiling - transparent cyan ghosts swam through the room. He shut his eyes again, pressed his head back into the pillow, and whined. That was all he could do, and it didn't help with the rest: voices buzzed in his ear, wavering, fading, hissing, uneven - and his skin shivered under the faint touches of someone else's memories.

And the rest of him - all he could feel were the rough stitches of his clothes and his comforter, they may as well have been _him_. He felt about as tough as the mattress sinking beneath him. Sinking further, sinking further - he had not been floating, exactly, more like he was suspended where he was, ungrounded. But as he sank now, he wasn't sure that was better. He didn't know what he'd find when he reached the bottom.

He found fingers against his face, then through his hair. The touch was solid, heavier, hotter than the others, but he turned his head away from it all the same, until he heard a voice, solid, heavier, and hotter than the others:

"Shh, now, Jackie, I'm here. It's just me," Atlas said softly, and moved his hand back to Jack's cheek, stroking gently.

Atlas. It was _Atlas._

Jack immediately leaned into the touch, pressing himself against Atlas' hand. He still didn't open his eyes, in case - in case this was somehow another memory, as if he'd open them and see Atlas as cyan and white and flickering as the ghosts, instead of golden and steady.

"Atlas," He moaned, quietly.

He heard a sharp breath above him, and the fingers stilled, and for a terrifying second he thought they'd go away.

He tried to move his hand, to hold Atlas and to make sure he didn't leave again, but something rattled instead. He rolled over, then, and the hand moved, but it slid to his hair instead of going away entirely, which gave him hope.

"Please - don't go. _Please."_ Jack said, quiet, hoarse.

"Never, Jack. I'll always stay with you. I'll never let you slip away, all right?"

Good. _Good._ Jack relaxed, sighing, finally sure (but not entirely, there was a sick feeling in his chest that must have meant it), that he was safe, and he opened his eyes.

Atlas was there, laying alongside him on the bed. He was golden, dark, and firmly _real_ , not a part of him wavered, or flickered, or was false.

Jack smiled, slowly, unsure for a second - but he was content. Atlas wouldn't leave him. Not again. Atlas smiled back.

They stayed like that, for a moment. And then Atlas' eyes shifted.

"Are you doin' better then?"

Jack didn't say anything. He wasn't sure if he was, or even what Atlas meant, exactly. He understood a little better when Atlas moved his hand away from Jack's cheek, to slide along Jack's stomach. It still ached, but with Atlas here, it didn't eat up his focus as much.

He took a breath, thought if he wanted to answer, and then tore his eyes away from Atlas'.

"I dunno."

"Well, let's have a look, shall we?"

He pushed, and while Jack was sure he meant to be gentle, it was still uncomfortable. He rolled onto his back with a grunt, and a quiet gurgle from his stomach. Atlas shifted a little lower down the bed, still laying down, but with his head level to Jack's belly and the glow still pulsating inside of it.

Jack squinted at Atlas, trying to see him clear through the mist in his vision, yes, but also wondering what he was going to do about -- whatever was bothering him. Then, Atlas flattened his hand against Jack's skin. His hand moved as slow as ever, fingers spread out as he slid his palm over Jack's belly, up, then down, to his ribs, to just under his navel. It was nice, really nice, considering how tense he felt beneath the skin.

Jack sighed, long, deep, _content_ , and let his head fall back against the pillow. Let his eyes shut and let his mind wander to his senses. There was still the discomfort of cold and phantom voices at the edges of everything, as always, but more prominent, and overall, more real, was Atlas and his warmth, and that was enough. He felt like sinking into the bed - the seams that were scraping him before seemed to embrace him now, and it wasn't so bad, this time. Drifting wasn't so bad, with Atlas to anchor him.

Jack pulled himself out of the sea of his senses, enough to open his eyes. He found Atlas easy enough, as he watched his hand backlit by that red glow, not unlike Jack earlier. Hah.

"I wanna kiss you." The words fell out of Jack's mouth before he realized he was saying them. It was hazy, but it was loud enough for Atlas to hear anyway. Jack was still warm all over, but now it was his ears that burned the most.

Atlas looked up, and it seemed like it was delayed, but he smiled, smirked, a little. He didn't seem... Upset. Or whatever Jack was dreading. He chuckled quietly, shaking his head.

“You _are_ desperate, aren’t you?” he said.

But before the shame could sink too far into Jack, Atlas leaned forward to kiss that light between his fingers. Not... quite what Jack meant, but the texture of Atlas' lips was one that he missed already, and always welcomed.

Atlas kept his head against Jack's stomach, as his thumb started tracing circles again, idly, and inconsistent. Barely anything at all, but still enough to make Jack sigh and relax again. He was sore, but Atlas was a comfort, as always.

"Look at all that," he muttered, and Jack almost couldn't hear him. He _could_ hear, and almost feel, the chuckle that followed.

There was wetness and warmth - Atlas' tongue against his skin, licking up the side of his belly.

"Ah, I can almost taste it," he said, his voice - something was off about it, corroding at the edges. Maybe it was just low, and maybe it was just the ADAM humming all throughout Jack's veins.

Atlas grinned, Jack could tell, because he felt his teeth against the skin of his stomach.

"I wonder what someone would pay to rip the ADAM out of ya."

Jack grinned too, because he was _just_ thinking something like that not long ago, how _funny_. But then Atlas' hand grew heavy, pushing down, and though he tried not to, a quiet groan whimpered out of the back of his throat. Atlas didn't notice, he'd fastened his mouth against his belly again, nipping the skin, pressing his face against it and it against his face.

"You're mine, kid," Atlas said, his voice low and vibrating against Jack, staring at the light like he was talking to it. Jack nodded, quickly, because that had always been the case.


End file.
